Culpability
by nickeldime17
Summary: Epilogue: Complete
1. Part One: Culpable

Title: Culpability

Pairing: M/A, but revolves around M/L

Rating: M

Setting: After Hello, Goodbye. AU contemporary to Love Among the Runes, and continues into a future where Max stepped up to be 'Savior of the World', where Logan's 'war hero' status brought him back into the Cale fold, and where Alec is thought to have the title of 'President of the United States of America' in the bag.

Disclaimer: Dark Angel and its characters do not belong to me.

AN: Keep in mind that I enjoy angst amidst my romanticism.

**Part One: **

She woke to the green numbers of an alarm clock that wasn't hers. An arm was wrapped around her waist; warm and heavy and male. It kept her anchored to a body that was also warm and male. She slid quickly from the bed, holding her breath and hoping he wouldn't wake. He didn't, simply murmured and turned on his stomach, and she breathed a little sigh of relief.

The walk from his room to the bathroom felt like forever, and she could feel panic bubbling within her. She should pick up her clothes, she thought. Her tank top had been hanging on the TV antenna she recalled, and her jeans were somewhere behind the couch. From what she could remember, her bra and panties would be unsalvageable. A sob caught in her throat, the clothes didn't matter, he'd seen it all anyway.

She looked into the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her long hair was tangled, her eyelids felt heavy, her brown eyes wide beneath them, and she could see the guilt and distress she was feeling beginning to war with anger.

"_You can't blame me for this." His voice was harsh through the phone._

"_I won't, I promise." Her voice was pleading, begging. It made a part of her wince, but she needed him so badly._

She pushed the anger away. It wasn't his fault, and she had promised. She knew what it would do to him once she got within smelling distance, but it hadn't stopped her from calling him. If he had said no…She shook her head, ashamed. She would've marched into his apartment anyway and threw herself at him until he gave in. She had wanted him so badly she had thought she'd jump out of her skin if he didn't touch her.

"_We can't do this," his voice was desperate through the door, "You don't-"_

"_Yes," she cut him off, pushing to be let in, "Yes we can. Yes I do." She was practically purring with need._

He'd been so tentative before the pheromones overwhelmed him. His touch had been light, his lips hesitant. Her own lips were still swollen she saw, their redness testimony to the animal passion that had overtaken them both. She remembered the way his pupils had dilated, the black expanding so that only the tiniest ring of green-gold remained, as he locked the door and stalked toward her.

_Excitement left her trembling as he approached, so slowly, the look in his eyes predatory. His hand skimmed her ear, tracing her jaw line, tilted her head upward to accept the soft, almost chaste, kiss he bestowed upon her…And then his hand grasped her neck, fingers caressing the barcode, and his mouth was devouring her._

She turned from the mirror, and the action shifted her hair. She stilled, glancing back at the glass and held the dark mass away from her neck. Runes danced up her spine like freshly-inked tattoos leading to her genetic brand, a mark of military ownership. The skin around it was bruised from his mouth, the memory of his teeth made her shiver, and she knew the mark of his possession would never fully fade.

_Her back felt hot against his chest and she strained against him, panting, pushing back into his thrusts. He growled and the puff of air across her ear made her moan in response, reaching back to pull him tighter to her…A warning rumble emanated from his chest, and her body vibrated as he grabbed her hands, holding them above her head, and pressing her closer to the wall. He wanted her submission._

"_Mine."_

_His mouth had been warm and wet upon her neck, the bite unexpected, and her body had gone limp with pleasure, pliant to his claim. "Yours," she sighed raggedly, "All yours. Only yours."_

Her cheeks burned at the memory. She left the mirror for the temptation of the shower, for the beat of hot, blessedly hot against her now cool skin, water. The bathroom held sanctuary, he had not taken her here, and the water rained purification, she let it wash him off her skin and out of her body.

He was innocent in this. She had been in the wrong to demand it of him, and part of her still wondered at why it had been _him_, of all people.

_Heat raced through her veins. She ignored the looks the males sent her, stalking out of Terminal City, intent on finding him. She'd ignored the beeping of her pager and O.C.'s concerned questions. Instead she grabbed the payphone, punching numbers she hadn't known she knew by heart. His voice had simultaneously soothed and excited her…_

"_I'm in heat."_

The towel was almost threadbare, but the blue was calming and the fabric comforting. She draped it around her body, folding it shut tightly, and went to gather her clothes. Her jeans felt rough against her exposed skin, her shirt clung as the water dripped from her hair, and there was her bra lying on the floor. He hadn't bothered with the clasp, had simply seized and pulled, and she remembered thinking how erotic the sound of tearing satin was and if he'd do the same to her panties. He had.

_He was finally in her. She writhed in his lap, clutching his body closer, legs binding him to her. One hand gripped her waist, setting her hips to pace, the other cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Don't you think of him," he ordered fiercely, "Don't you dare think of him."_

"_No," she gasped, shaking her head in denial, "Only you, I-" His lips cut off her promise._

His eyes had been wide with lust and wonderment and something she shied away from naming when she came apart in his arms. She knew because she had kept her eyes open until she couldn't anymore, determined to watch him watching her, to let him know he was the only man she was thinking of tonight.

Why did it matter? She wondered now, as she poured a bowl of sugary cereal for him and set it on a cluttered table. Why? To him and to her…it shouldn't have. He shouldn't have been the only man in her thoughts. That wasn't how heat worked.

Two glasses of milk. She downed one and left the other by the bowl. He needed orange juice too, something to combat all that sugar he didn't need. She straightened and there he was, watching her, eyes unreadable. He stood in the bedroom doorway and she stayed where she was, a table and an apartment between them. It felt like all the distance in the world and yet not enough space.

His eyes were wary, his shoulders tense and hunched, waiting for the burden of blame and the weight of her accusations. It made her heart hammer with remorse and she frowned at the sudden realization of how much power she had over him.

"_Max."_ _His voice had been soft and sleepy._

"_Alec." Her voice had been slurred and satisfied and she had drifted off without recognizing the words he spoke._

He was gearing up for a fight. She saw the sparkle start in his eyes and his entire body loosened, a cocky smirk tugged at his mouth as he opened it for a typical smart-aleck remark, but she beat him to the punch.

"Thank you."

He stilled, instantly on guard, unsure of her. "What?" His tone was neutral.

"Thank you," she repeated, smiling gently, "for taking care of me."

He blinked, tongue slipping out to wet his lips. He was still uncertain, but she saw his eyes lighten. "You're welcome."

"I'm gonna blaze, see you at Jam Pony?"

He shook his head, "Weekend off. Crash?"

She nodded and walked toward the door. "Later." He echoed the good-bye and she shut the door behind her, moving quietly down the hallway and out into the daylight.

"_I love you, Maxie."_


	2. Part Two: Control

AN: Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, it is an update! You know, for those of you still interested in this fic…

* * *

**Part Two:**

There was a dull throbbing that nagged at his consciousness until he was awake enough to realize that he was in real pain. His entire body felt raw, sore, and used. And, for all the discomfort, he grinned in remembrance of the cause. Until the ramifications of what had happened hit him hard and all he could do was curse himself. Stupid, stupid…

He hadn't been keeping track of the calendar since their last encounter. Under siege, the passage of time in Terminal City seemed to flow too quickly and too slowly for him to be able to say with any certainty, what day of what month it was. He should've had a calendar.

"_What?" he demanded._

_Mole shrugged, eyes blank, and tapped his cigar. "Little twitchy today, kitty cat."_

"_Shut up."_

He hadn't identified the heaviness in the air, the scent that kept him off balance. He'd noticed the looks of the other X-5 males with only a passing acknowledgement, his mind focused on that tickle in his brain that said he was forgetting something. He really should've guessed.

"_Max wants you." Dix was hunched over, looking hunted._

"_I'm on my way."_

He hadn't realized, until he turned the doorknob and walked into her office, that the woman he'd claimed as his mate was in heat. The giant lizard was probably laughing at him and Dix's words took on a whole new meaning. He'd walked right into a trap. He should've known.

"_Shut the door, Alec."_

"_Maxie?" The heady smell of arousal had him closing the flimsy door and locking it behind him._

"_Come here."_

_Her eyes were so dark, her skin flushed pink beneath the mocha, her body relaxed in an open invitation. He took a deep breath, inhaling the lush scent of her need for him. Mine. "Yes."_

He turned his head, warm cheek brushing the cool floor, and gave an appreciative glance to the desk chair lying on its side. He noted with dark amusement that one of its wheels was still spinning. He chuckled, and then sucked in a gasp as pain bloomed in his side. She'd been so demanding…

_The chair toppled over and he grunted at the collision of wood and cement against his back, but she never lost her rhythm or her grip on his hands, holding him captive. Hard, fast, the slip-slide feel of her body gripping him made him want to scream. Up, down, up and up, harder and faster, until her body tightened and her fingers convulsed in his and a high keening noise escaped her._

_Then she was beneath him, body curving up into his and away from the cold cement floor, wrapping her legs around his waist and he took control, going deeper into her welcoming heat. All mine._

A chuckle left him again, followed by a wince, and looked down his body. There was definite bruising. Courtesy of which fall, he wasn't sure, but he was most assuredly hurting. He could feel the sting of welts on his shoulder blades, remembered the scrabble of blunt fingernails as she tried for leverage.

Nails. Never teeth. She would never give him that, never give up full control of herself, not even in the depths of her heat. Not to him.

Shit. He knocked his head lightly on the ground as it fell back, and swallowed hard. Shit. He should've backed right out the door the second her pheromones hit him. Once was a mistake, twice…They'd have to talk about it now, and he never wanted her to know how much power she truly had over him. Shit, fuck, damn. Stupid, stupid…he was so fucking stupid for feeling this way.

_Pride. Possession. Want. Need. _

_Her neck arched, throat bare, clinging to him as he thrust into the warm wet heat of her. "Say it," he crooned, voice low, "Say you're mine."_

"_Yours," she repeated obediently, her tone a seductive purr, her dark eyes coy under her lashes. He growled, felt it rumble through his chest and out his throat, and he shoved into her, hard, the desk they were leaning against skidding forward and her eyes lost that calculating edge. Her hands dug into his shoulders, his arms, his back, anywhere she could find purchase and she was desperate now. He felt the satisfaction of victory, the taste of it in her mouth, and she groaned against his lips. "Yours, all yours."_

He hated heat, great sex aside, but it fucked up his head. She wasn't ever going to be his, not even with his mark around her barcode. They could play at being in love for Logan, pretend they were together in every way that mattered, but it was just make believe. Heat screwed up the balance of things, made him want. Made him think he could have.

Made him believe every promise that dripped from her pretty, pouting, lying mouth.

Clothes, he decided, would be good to have. Clothes would cover up the visual evidence and he could avoid the subject until she forced the issue. And she would, she was pushy like that. His jeans and boxers had disappeared when they were on top of the desk, he remembered, before they had tumbled off onto the floor…and onto the little wooden stool she kept as an audience chair. Yeah, he realized, those _were_ splinters in his ass.

"_Wait, wait…" He closed his eyes, throbbing everywhere, but the pain jolted him from the haze of desire. "We gotta stop." He twisted and she rolled with him, hands caressing over his emerging bruises and stinging cuts and the twinges those touches caused were more from pleasure than pain. "Don't-" His voice cut out as she sucked at his collarbone._

"_Don't stop," she moaned, breathless, "don't!"_

_And he'd done that. He'd made her beg for him. Mine. Mate. And the hurt didn't matter._

"Mornin', sunshine."

Shit. He lifted his eyes to the unwelcome sight of Mole grinning. "Shit."

"You mind taming the beast? You're burning my virgin eyes."

"Shut up." He pushed himself up, hissing, and spotted his pants twined around a desk leg. Tugged them over legs he wasn't sure he could stand on, and then smirked up at the transhuman. "You know you want me."

"Like a bullet in my brain," Mole retorted and threw something at him.

He studied the little silver foil package, the faint writing on it, and then he smiled. Frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts. "Thanks."

"Her Majesty sent 'em, and me." Mole gave him a measuring look. "Said you might need some assistance to the infirmary."

"Yeah," he admitted, rising slowly to his feet, "Assistance would be nice."

He wished she wouldn't do stuff like this. Like breakfast and a living, breathing, insulting crutch. It made him think that maybe she might just care about him. A little. Enough to give him hope.

Hope just made it hurt more.

"_Only yours always, Alec."_

**TBC…**


	3. Part Three: Calm

**Thank you** to Seamagik, iluvaqt, T, darkaznangel452, JoJo2753, purplebunnywabbit, Buffy492, PyroDeScorpio2, PurpleSpinx (yes, it will end up M/A), ACE, and the anonymous reader for reviewing! They make me so happy!

_AN:_The original part 2 is now part 4, so if, while reading part 3, you become confused, it might be because you missed the new part 2 which takes place months before what I had written as the original part 2 (which is now part 4 and will be posted again soon). Are you all thoroughly confuzzled? Good.

_Dedication:_ To Seamagik, because she is made of awesome and her Q owns my soul

**Part Three: Calm**

She couldn't focus. The air felt heavy and hot, her head was whirling, and the tiny black letters on the invite from the Seattle City Council kept blurring together. She tensed whenever footsteps sounded outside her door and bolted upright, searching for a place to hide, whenever she heard his voice echo through Command. She was trying to brace herself for the inevitable. Trying to remain cool, calm, and collected.

_Her steps were light, lighter than she expected from the weight of need she felt, and she found herself at the door too quickly. The wood was warped and scratched, the bronze numbers missing, but it could have been the sturdiest barricade ever made as she stood there. Just looking._

The office door finally opened, and she didn't look up from the papers she couldn't concentrate on. She already knew who it was. The way her attention focused on the near silence of his footfalls, the way she caught his scent in the air, and the way her muscles relaxed involuntarily, told her he'd finally come.

"Are we going to talk about this?"

_The knob was cool beneath her palm and she twisted it, door swinging inward. Unlocked. Open. An invitation? But no, locks had no meaning here. Not in a city full of transgenics._

_He wouldn't be expecting her. She thought of turning around, but she could hear his breathing, steady and sure, breaking the quiet of the stale air._

Cool, calm, collected. "The City Council is offering Terminal City a seat." She looked up at him.

"I'll take that as a no."

His voice was light, expression pleasant, and she wondered what that meant after the way he'd looked at her last night. She remembered the way his hands had shook and how his voice had broken over her name. A warm flush started low in her body and she looked down at the letter, trying to conceal the blush working its way over her cheeks.

_He was deep asleep, face peaceful, moonlight shining on him from tears in the curtains. She felt her heart clench at the calmness of him, at the way his dark lashes brushed his cheeks, at the way his chest moved with each even breath. _

_She paused in the doorway to his bedroom and told herself this was a bad idea._

_She told herself to leave._

The letter was plucked from her hands, and she looked up at him, surprised, but his attention was all for the words printed politely on the paper. "Who are you thinking about?"

"You." The word slipped out softly, barely a murmur, and she felt her face flame when he met her eyes with a smirk in his own.

"Me?" The word was a rumble, dark and growling, the way he sounded in the throes of heat. The way she told herself she didn't remember he sounded.

_The fabric of her shirt caught on roughened skin as she fingered the hem, eyes flitting over his slumbering form. He hadn't indicated he was aware of her presence at all. And really, what kind of a super soldier was that? So she stripped quickly, easily, defiantly, and still he didn't stir._

_She wrapped her arms around herself, self-conscious, even though he'd seen all of her already. Even though he'd touched and tasted and marked every inch of her. Even though he slept on as she crossed to the bed, bare feet whisper-light on the floor._

_It wasn't the same. This was different. No hormones, no heat…no one and nothing to blame but herself._

_And still she slipped beneath the cool sheets and reached out for him._

"You're charismatic," she said briskly, unwilling to acknowledge the implication in his voice, "People like you, you're okay-looking," his eyebrow rose at that, "and I trust you to represent TC's best interests."

He leaned against her desk, and she refused to look away. His eyes were guarded, dark green with just a hint of golden brown flecks. They'd been nearly black last night. "What does Logan have to say about this development?"

Her breath came in quickly, almost a gasp, at the sudden inclusion of her…whatever he was…into this. Stay cool, stay calm, stay collected. "Logan has no say in the way TC is run," she said, pleased that she had managed to keep her tone level, "That's my job."

"And _you_ want _me_."

There was no mistaking the insinuation in that statement.

"Yes."

_His skin was soft, pale, dotted with freckles, and she pressed a light kiss to the scar on his left shoulder. He tensed, and she waited, lips still moving lightly over his skin. She could hear the breath he took, quick and uneven. "What-" She cut him off when she moved above him, straddling his lower body, and leaning down to catch his lips with her own._

_Her hair fell around them, brushing the tips of his shoulders, her hands splayed lightly on his chest as she explored his mouth without the rush of pheromones. He shivered beneath her, still taut, and she met his widened eyes and said his name once._

_And then he touched her back._

A smile spread across his face and his eyes lightened in an instant. "I like your hair like that."

She felt her jaw drop at the sudden change in him. A shift in subject and mood as if the non-existent wind had just swept the intensity away. Her hand went to her hair, twirling the end of the ponytail as it swished around her neck. The pinky of that hand brushed against her barcode and she realized that anyone could see his mark imprinted around it.

Her eyes flew to his as she tugged the rubber band out, letting the dark tangle that was her hair hang heavy against her neck and shoulders. "The AC's still busted," she informed him, "I got a little hot."

His smile, she realized, was actually more of a smirk. "Right."

_It wasn't supposed to be like this._

_He was just supposed to fuck her, like he did when she was out of her mind with need for him._

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. Like the way he smoothed his hand down her side as he took his time kissing her until her lips were swollen and red. Like the way he touched his mouth to every inch of her skin as if he wanted to memorize her. Like the way he breathed her name, voice hitching, as he slid inside her soft and slow._

_And she wasn't supposed to cry his name like a broken doll as he moved in and out, her hands clasped tightly around his neck, his buried in her hair. She could feel his eyes on her through her lids, knew he'd be watching every feeling that flickered across her face every time he touched her so deliberately._

_She couldn't open her eyes. Couldn't see what was in his. It wasn't supposed to be like this._

He was still watching her, smirk in place. "Heat wave is still going," he commented, "Why don't you put it back up?"

She glared and the smirk slid into a half-smile as he straightened, picking the hair tie up off the desk and stepping behind her. His hands stroked through the sweaty mess, pulling it up gently and she bit her lip to prevent a moan from escaping at the draft of cool air. He twisted the band easily and she should quip at him about that fact, she really should. Except…

Except he was touching her again, tenderly, his thumbs rubbing against that spot on her neck where the impression of his teeth remained stamped.

Last night he had touched her like that, like she might break. His hands had been light, so different than the times before. Before he had pressed and bruised and gripped until she ached. Until the evidence of their night was sure to stay visible for at least a week.

He hadn't left a mark on her body last night.

She'd looked herself over from head to toe this morning, and he hadn't left one single reminder of their time together except the memory of his hands on her skin and his mouth hot against hers and the _want_ that seemed to fill her every time she thought of him. They weren't supposed to work this way.

"_Say it."_

"_What?"_

"_Say it," he muttered, breath hot against her neck, thick within her, "Say you're mine."_

_She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, arched upward, and gasped when he managed to thrust deeper. "Alec!"_

She sat straighter, _cool_, her chair squeaking, and he moved away. _Calm_. "The City Council meets on the first of every month."

He nodded, "I'll be there."

"Thank you." _Collected_. His face had fallen into that blank pleasantness again, and she gave a little sigh. "Was there anything you wanted?" His eyes sharpened and she wanted to take the question back.

"No." He shoved his hands in his pockets and then frowned and drew them out again. She watched the mask disappear as his eyes flickered to hers and back down. Something glinted dully between his fingers. "I just…here."

_She was at the bedroom door, risking a last glance, when he woke up again. She didn't notice until she turned away and he spoke. "Stay." She turned back, clothes held tight to her chest, and looked at him._

_He hadn't moved from where she'd left him. "I found some oatmeal," she informed him, "Apples and cinnamon. I left the packet by the stove."_

_His eyes opened to slits and they glittered green-gold in the moonlight. His expression didn't change as he repeated his request, her name tacked on the end like a prayer. And she didn't want to think about that. Didn't think at all as she slid back into the bed beside him, let him drape an arm over her and tuck her against him._

_She'd wait until he drifted off again before she left._

The key was made for an apartment. Obsolete in Terminal City. They didn't use locks, didn't need keys.

She looked up and he was watching her steadily. Waiting.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

She closed her fingers around the cool metal.

"_Stay with me, Maxie."_


	4. Part Four: Claim

**Thanks to:** chrisVIII, JoJo2753, iluvaqt, ACE, Seamagik (love!), aliffec, Whirlwind-2005, jadedcutie494 (yea, I switched some things around), Chica De Los Ojos Café, wrenbailey, darkaznangel452, PyroDeScorpio2, Mariana Teresia, and purplebunnywabbit for reviewing!

_Note1:_ This was the original part two, which was what that confusing AN in the last part was trying to say, so it may be familiar to some and why you get an update so fast.

**Part Four: Claim**

He woke to the beeping of his alarm clock, arms wrapped around a thin pillow. Her side of the bed was empty and cold. She'd been gone for a while then. He slid from the mattress and right onto the floor, dropping into his morning routine of push-ups and curl-ups and tried not to think about it.

The walk to the bathroom was short. He absolutely hated this apartment. It was small and musty and had been abandoned for so long that it felt stale and lifeless. He'd been occupying it for nearly a year now and the only time it felt like home was when she was there. He liked watching her sleep, or attempt breakfast, even enjoyed arguing with her over early morning cartoons on the television he's insisted he couldn't live without.

Damn it, he scolded, don't be a chump. He wasn't designed to be a chump and he had no idea why he let her treat him like one. He took that back, he knew exactly why.

_The pool table at Tricks n' Treats was old and the felt was scratched. The balls were scuffed and some of them were doubled, but they worked just fine and he enjoyed the feel of the cue stick in his hand._

_She was watching him; he could feel it as he bent over to sink the eight ball. Offering a smirk to his beaten opponent, he slapped his fellow X5 on the back and headed for the bar. She smelt like cinnamon and vanilla as he invaded her space and he cursed Original Cindy in his head for sending her scented lotions._

"_What's up?" She rarely left Command at this time of day, preferring to sneak into his bed sometime after midnight. She looked at him, serious, and he wondered who had died._

"_We need to talk."_

Talk, hah. The water was freezing, but he let it drench him anyway. She'd probably used up what little hot water he had trying to rinse the stench of sex off her skin. And he rejected the knowledge that the thought hurt him, broke something inside him.

Why the hell couldn't he stay away from her? But the answer to that question was the same as the answer to the chump question.

_She moaned into his mouth, pressed up against the apartment door that had just shut behind them. His hands were already under her tank top, stroking the smooth skin beneath and she shivered when he touched that sensitive spot just below her ribcage. _

_He loved making her squirm. He loved that he was the only one who knew all those tender spots. He loved that he was the only one in Terminal City who would ever see its leader flushed and begging. He loved the way she melted into his arms with one well-placed kiss, even if she'd been screaming at him just seconds before. God, he loved…_

He forced his mind away from those reminisces and called himself a fool once again. He turned the water off before he turned into a genetically empowered popsicle and grabbed for his towel. It was damp and Christ, it still smelled like her.

Bitch.

_Her neck was bared. It was a signal of submission she only showed in the midst of their coupling, as if the whole of TC didn't know she was his. As if his claim wasn't staked clear as day around her barcode, in the impression of teeth that wouldn't diminish._

He had thought it was amusing that she didn't quite understand what it meant. That she didn't comprehend the dirty looks all the more alpha females sent her way, wondering why she didn't acknowledge him as her mate, why she didn't stake an official claim. He thought it was cute the way she bristled when a more enterprising X5 female ignored the unstable situation and made a play for him. But still she didn't mark him.

At least now he knew why.

_Her body was welcoming, and he slipped into her easily, feeling her clench around him with pleasure. Their bodies fit perfectly and it was one thing that he thanked Manticore for. They were linked by some sort of genetically engineered fate, and even she was starting to see it._

_She whispered his name as he moved in and out and she moved with him, eyes closed, arching upward. He bit her throat gently, a growl vibrating his own, and her dark eyes sought his immediately. "Mine." It escaped him every night they were together, almost an instinctive need for her to recognize his claim._

_She only ever responded to him when in the grip of her heat, wanton and frantic. And then she promised him she was his forever. Only his for always._

Lying bitch.

It should only have happened that once. Hell, he shouldn't have even given in to her that first time. But he'd never been able to deny her anything truly important. Not since he'd first locked eyes with her in that tiny grey cell, when that deep primal impulse had jumped up and squeezed his heart back from the limbo Psy Ops had put it in.

No. He shouldn't have let her come over that time. Shouldn't have marked her. Shouldn't have let her think it was her fault alone for being so weak. Shouldn't have pretended to be her boyfriend. Shouldn't have stayed around as her second-in-command. Shouldn't have had her back against any and all comers. Shouldn't have joined the City Council. Shouldn't have let her trap him that second time. Shouldn't have given her a key, immaterial as it was. Fuck symbolism anyway...

No. He should have followed through on his mission. Should have stayed gone. Should have told her to screw herself when the pheromones took over. Should have told Logan the truth. Should have left again when the going got tough. Should have had some other willing female in his bed the next time she came calling for a little TLC. Should have let her handle the rescue/suicide mission of her 'we're not even like that' ex-boyfriend alone. Should have kicked her out when he felt her warm naked body press against his without the benefit of heat.

But no, he was the idiot screw-up who now had responsibilities up the wazoo and a mate who wasn't a mate at all. Manticore's finest his ass.

_She was lying on her stomach and he was leaning half on her, pressing kisses up and down her back. His hand was tangled in her thick dark hair and he felt her smile. He dropped one last kiss on her barcode and finally asked, "What'd you want to talk about Maxie?"_

_She tensed beneath him and he sat up, feeling her follow the movement as she turned to face him, sheets drawn up to her chest. He felt himself grin at her illusion of modesty, but it fell away as the seriousness he'd seen at TNT came back. His mind raced through all the possible scenarios, but what she said…_

"_Logan found the cure."_

_The Cure. "What?" She took a deep breathe and he felt his heart clench._

"_He asked me to marry him."_

_His mind froze at the words, went blank, couldn't focus on what she was still saying. His body moved on its own, stilling her speech with a fierceness that didn't occur unless they were both drunk and high off their bodies' pheromones._

They'd mated with a desperation he'd never thought was possible, all hands and teeth, hard and fast, sweat and blood… Her nails, those short stubby nails that she constantly bit in private, had shredded his back, and he knew she'd have bruises this morning from his hands grasping her hips.

He was late for the morning meeting, but he knew she wouldn't send someone to get him. Not this morning after. He packed a duffle bag, wrote a note for Joshua, another for his core group at Command; Mole, Dix, Luke, Gem, and Dalton, and walked out of his bedroom toward the kitchen.

There was a bowl of soggy cereal on the table, along with a glass of now warm milk and orange juice that, by this time, had a build up of pulp at the bottom. It was their morning ritual, she always left him breakfast. Sometimes it was burnt toast or overly peppered scrambled eggs, but mostly it was cereal. The sugary kind he loved and knew she snuck out of TC to get just for him.

Anger burned in his chest. All that she had left was the dissipating scent of her lotion, kept on a shelf in bathroom, a now-meaningless breakfast, and a dead, empty apartment. And him, she'd left him. Refused him. Would let another claim what was his.

He hated her.

In that fucked up way that meant he loved her more than life itself.

"_I said yes, Alec."_

**TBC…**

_Note2:_ And some of you are going: Oh no she didn't! But yeah, she totally did. (My writing muse worships at the Altar of Angst.)


	5. Interlude One: Cold

AN: I started writing these for my LJ on a whim, using my A to Z prompts, and thought I'd post them here so that you guys get more of a feel for the world my Max and Alec are in. They'll include other character POV's in the future.

100 word drabbles in the culpability!verse.

* * *

Anything

* * *

"Just tell me what you need, Max." His hands were heavy on her shoulders, warm and solid, and she couldn't look at him. "Tell me what I can do." Those hands squeezed, reassuring, and she shook her head. "You know I'd do anything for you." She knew. It was what scared her. "Anything, Max, just tell me."

She watched over his shoulder, through the chain-link fence, at the crowds of people yelling profanities at them…at their people. "Just stay." She finally met his gaze, aware of the way he quickly masked his emotions, the seriousness disappearing into mischievousness.

"Ask nicely."

* * *

Brick

* * *

Sweat dripped down his back and the T-shirt he wore stuck to his skin. He was starting to think that rebuilding a wall in the middle of a heat wave wasn't such a good idea. Then he thought of the expression on Max's face when the damage had been caused, of the little X-6's wondering if their world was going to burn down again. He set his jaw and picked up another brick, feeling the rough edges through his work gloves.

Fuck the Ordinaries. This was their home, and he was going to make damn sure it stayed that way.

* * *

Cold

* * *

She moved closer, listening for a change in his breathing, for a clue that he was awake and might move away. They hadn't been doing this for long, these soft nights curled up into each other, and she was still wary. Her head rested lightly on his outstretched arm and she gasped when it closed around her, pulling her flush against him. There hadn't been a warning, his breathing hadn't changed.

"You're cold and your hair is wet," he murmured.

"It's raining."

"In Seattle? Huh, go figure."

He hadn't opened his eyes and she smiled, burrowing closer to his warmth.

* * *

Daughter

* * *

She was in the kitchen, cursing, probably burning the toast, and he lay in his bed and listened to her do it. It was so domestic, so unreal. He didn't know what they were doing, not really, but part of him wanted it to stop. It was a very small part. It was the part that woke him up after she left, her scent still in the air, from a dream of tiny fingers and toes that belonged to a little girl that had his eyes and her hair. The part that said this wasn't real and wouldn't, _couldn't_, last.

* * *

Enough

* * *

People were dying. Ames White and his Familiars had upped their game, and people were dying. Her people were safe, immune, as were their enemies. It could have come down to transgenic vs. snake-worshiping cult, but people were dying. People she didn't know, but that could one day be her friends. And she couldn't let that happen.

She was supposed to stop it. It was written in dark marks all over her skin that she was supposed to stop it.

So she did.

They called her Savior, offered favors. She accepted.

"Is the deal good?" he asked.

"It's good enough."

* * *

Frosting

* * *

He expected the apartment to be empty, but there she was, frowning over a lopsided cake and he felt his heart stutter. "What are you doing?"

She blinked up at him, "Baking."

"You don't bake."

"This cake would beg to differ."

She leaned back against him as he inspected her handiwork. Pink frosting was spread unevenly over the cake underneath and 'Happy Birthday Eve!' was scrawled untidily across the surface, the letters broken and sloping.

"I think the cake will support my argument."

"Shut up," she grumbled, accompanying the order with a soft smack.

"Make me."

She tasted like strawberries.

* * *

Girl

* * *

The first girl he fucked after leaving her was a blonde. Brunettes were trouble. He met her in a bar somewhere in New Jersey. She looked at him like she knew him and screamed his name when she came and he left before she woke up the next morning.

The news was being scrolled across the bottom of every fucking television station in existence. 'Savior to marry Cyber-journalist, details at 11…'

He didn't want to know the fucking details, not when he couldn't get the memory of her out of his skin.

The second girl he fucked was a red-head.

TBC…


	6. Part Five: Choice

I have internet again! Huzzah!

**Thanks** **to** tvmaniac2008, MaxAlec4ever, Anna-xx-Banana, wrenbailey, PyroDeScorpio2, Whirlwind-2005, Staceyk, purplebunnywabbit, darkaznangel452, T, Chica De Los Ojos Café, YokoYuyGal, anon73, iluvaqt, chrisVIII, vancity angel, and alec to the max for your reviews of Chapter 4! (And I just realized…Seamagik, where were you?? -Sob- No love…no love at all…)

**And to** Seamagik (now you come back! Alphabet Love makes the world go round), BLISSFULLY-JADED73, Chica De Los Ojos Café, wrenbailey, darkaznangel452, purplebunnywabbit, vintage.soul494, Whirlwind-2005, iluvaqt, chrisVIII(sorry you were disappointed), and quirks for reviewing the first interlude!

Alec has been sacrificed to the Altar of Angst. That's right people, there's Max/Logan in this chapter (and also M/A; friggin' destined, remember…). I just wanted to give you fair warning, and to give myself time to prep against all the hate mail I'm going to get. But now, on with the show…-insert evil, maniacal cackle here-

**Part Five: Choice**

She didn't wake, because she hadn't slept. His arm was heavy across her body, caging her, holding her down. She focused on breathing steadily, ignoring the clawing panic that scraped up her insides, as she watched the red digital numbers slowly count down until morning.

She didn't think she was supposed to feel this trapped. Being with him…loving him…they were supposed to be free. But his touch had been too light, his body awkward and unfamiliar, and the rings on her left hand felt heavy every time she touched him back.

She felt off, unsteady and shaky. She needed space. Time.

His hand slid easily off her skin as she slipped from the bed, feet soft on the plush carpeting. She shivered, feeling more than naked, and grabbed whatever clothing rested on the top of her suitcase. Whatever she had packed for her honeymoon.

Each step from the bed made her heart beat a little faster, made her skin a little less numb. She clutched her clothes to her chest as she stepped over the antique gown on the floor, all cream satin and scratchy lace. He'd undone each tiny pearl button with trembling hands before he'd pushed the dress off her shoulders. The wedding dress.

She was married.

She was Mrs. Logan Cale.

"_Boo, you ready for this?"_

"_Yes. It's what I've been waiting for." She met O.C.'s eyes in the mirror. Her best friend looked skeptical. "I love him. I'm going to marry him."_

_No matter that she didn't recognize her reflection. _

"_I just need a minute."_

The water was scalding hot. She let it spray down her body with relief. She'd chosen him. She'd chosen him because she loved him. She loved quiet, homemade dinners and dressing up to go out, feeling pretty and normal. That's what she wanted. It's what she'd always wanted.

So what if sometimes she craved Chinese instead of Italian? Watered down beer instead of a well-aged semi-dry Riesling? Cotton sheets instead of silk? A leather jacket instead of an expensive suit? Wind rushing past her on her Ninja instead of circulated in the new Trailblazer? A night at 'Tricks' instead of a gala benefit?

She could live with pasta and wine, with bedding that caught on her roughened fingertips, with skirts and blouses, with the air conditioning of the SUV, and the long dresses and fake smiles of society. She could live with Logan's world. _In_ Logan's world.

She didn't want anything else. No matter what _he_ thought.

_The door opened and she didn't need to look up to see who it was. Not Cindy. Not with the way her nerve ending sizzled and her whole body tensed. Not with the hot gaze of green eyes burning a hole through her robe._

"_Checklist? Let's see…Something old? Hmm…the groom." She turned to look at him, expression disapproving of his mockery, but she couldn't find any words. She hadn't seen him in six months. He continued, unaware of her struggle, or possibly uncaring. "Something new? Nice ice." His tone was sarcastic, and she had to stop herself from touching the diamond jewelry Logan had bought her. She glared and he smirked. "Something borrowed?"_

_She found a voice, but not hers. This one was throaty and hesitant. The voice of someone not ready to see him. The voice of someone unprepared as he sauntered closer to her. "The dress belonged to Logan's mother."_

_He nodded, "Ah." And moved toward her slowly. Every step deliberate, a dare. She stood to meet his challenge. "Something blue?" he asked, voice husky._

_Her mouth was dry and her hands twisted in the belt of her robe. His eyes followed the movement and he sucked in a breath when she undid it, letting the satin spill open to show her matching lingerie with the thigh high stockings and a little garter, all white lace with a single blue ribbon threaded through it._

"_Ah."_

_His eyes were dark as he reached for her, fingers tangling in the little blue ribbon as he wrapped her leg around his waist._

The shower wouldn't go cold. She stood beneath the spray and tried to figure out why she thought it should. She turned it off finally, because thoughts like that led her mind down a different path. A path she hadn't taken. Hadn't chosen.

Logan had asked her, all curiosity, why the hairstylist and make-up artist hadn't done their job. She'd told him she'd decided to look 'natural'.

What was she supposed to say? That another man's hands had pulled out every bobby pin? That he'd knotted the dark strands around his fingers as he drew her with him to the floor? That she'd begged him to with lips kissed free of cosmetics?

Logan hadn't asked about the missing stockings and garter.

_The satin was cool against her flushed skin, but she could feel the rub of carpet beneath it, and she gasped at the sensation. His mouth had moved to her neck, light kisses and licks as his hands spread her hair around her head. _

_Her fingers found the gap between his shirt buttons and tugged until they ripped apart, revealing warm skin and hard muscles. She wanted…_

"_Please…"_

_The request was no more than a whisper, but he heard her. He always heard her._

_His response was to trail his hands down her body, touch skimming her breasts above white lace. Her stomach sucked in as he caressed it, finally curling those slender, skillful fingers around the matching lace of her panties. And then he wrenched them down and away. _

_She was open. Free. His._

"_Mine."_

_And the part of her that hadn't been ready, hadn't been prepared, to see him again murmured 'yes'._

The towels were thick and fluffy, a subdued forest green, and she dried her skin and rubbed down her hair and wiggled into a pair of red sweatpants and a gray T-shirt. Both baggy. Both not hers.

_His._

The panic the shower had calmed came back screaming and she stared at herself in the bathroom's full length mirror, eyes too wide and skin too pale. She felt branded. Marked. _His._

But she wasn't. Never had been. Not really.

Not any more.

"_It'll disappear." He spoke against her neck and she didn't twist to look at him, even though that part of her wanted to._

"_What?"_

"_My claim." His breath ghosted hot against his mark over her barcode. "It'll disappear." He laughed, and it wasn't a pretty sound. "Like it was never there at all."_

_She made herself let go as he slipped away from her. Refused to cling. Bit her lip to keep from protesting. There was nothing to say. Nothing she could say. She had made her choice._

He hadn't left a physical reminder. Her body was unblemished, no bruises or red marks, no proof that his mouth had been slick on her skin or that his hands had gripped her hips gently, cradled her jaw as he thumbed against her lips…Nothing. Her body ached for the feel of his teeth against her barcode, the low murmur of his possession-

No.

She entered the bedroom, half hers now, and he was still asleep, snoring softly. She changed quickly; stuffing what was _his_ into the bottom of her suitcase, hiding what was left of him away.

Logan snorted in his sleep, turning, and she knew she should get back in bed. Let him wake up to her face and her body. To good morning kisses and professions of undying love. That was the plan. Max and Logan. That was the plan.

She left.

_The panties were abrasive. She could feel them as she pulled them back on, catching against her skin and making her wince. She concentrated on cleaning up, on making herself presentable. It was a lost cause, but she couldn't look at him yet._

_He was staring at her. She could feel it._

_When she finally glanced over his pants were fastened and his button-less shirt was tucked, overlapping tails, into them. He looked solemn and broken and she hated it, but he knew. He fucking _knew_ how this was going to end when they started it. "Max-"_

"_Don't."_

_He frowned and she turned back toward the vanity, toward make-up and a tiara with a veil and her future._

_He asked anyway. Whispered it from the door, but she heard him. She always heard him._

_She didn't turn around._

The sun was coming up. She watched it, head resting against the cool glass of the window, and listened to the whirring of his computers and the ticking of the clock. She couldn't even see Terminal City from here.

It was just because she was new at this. Once she settled in, then the penthouse would be a haven again, and not the cage it felt like now. She just needed to readjust.

This was what she wanted. This was a fairytale and she'd found her Prince Charming. It was the Disney ending she'd always pictured. A dream come true.

But what came after happily ever after?

_She dropped the mascara wand again and stared at the streaks of black it left on the vanity's surface. He was gone. She was okay. She was._

_The door opened and she squashed the flutter her heart gave. It was O.C. Not him. He was gone._

"_Boo, you aiight?"_

Breakfast. She could make breakfast. Concentrate on something else. Anything else.

"_I'm always all right."_

_But her eyes were a little red, and her hair was a mess and her stockings were ripped and he'd stolen her garter._

"_He's gone. It's over."_

"Max, what are you doing?"

He sounded alarmed and she blinked at him, frowning a little. "Making scrambled eggs. For breakfast."

He gave a little laugh and a little push. She stepped back and he slid in front of her, gripping the pan by the handle. "They're burnt." He upended the eggs into the garbage and she stared at the half-runny, half-black mess. "How about I make a nice frittata?"

Her chest was clenching as she sat silently on the counter top, still staring at her breakfast that he'd thrown in the trash. He should have eaten them anyway. She'd made them for him, and he should've eaten them.

_He_ would've-

No.

No.

She'd wanted this.

She'd chosen this.

They all had to live with that.

"_Come with me, Maxie."_

**To be continued…**

Bring it on, people! I can take the heat. P


	7. Part Six: Crumble

**Thanks** **to** vintage.soul494, Seamagik (always 3), chance32, MaxAlec4ever, wrenbaily (hope you post your angst soon), YokoYuyGal, tvmaniac2008, T (I'm afraid the angst will continue), brooklyn, nickyO, JG (the mark is addressed in this part), Evie205, vancity angel (yes, we will get more Max suffering, as the case may be), quirkys (Alec deserves cookies, and he will get them…in part 8), darkaznangel452, PyroDeScorpio2 (kicking people in the shins is fun!), purplebunnywabbit (I seriously love your reviews, you use such great imagery), whoisBrett, rogue.star.lover (hate away, I'm evil. That's why I did it.), Chica De Los Ojos Café, iluvaqt (Max has a lot of figuring out to do), mwsc2003, src13, ACE (interesting idea! Not quite the direction I'm going in, but wow, that would be interesting.), Mahine, PurpleSpinx, chrisVIII, staceykyla69, QuieraStrawberry9, anon, and inzane73 (thanks for saying that about the flashbacks, I'm always worried if they fit or not, so it's good to know they're working. PS: _Gone_ was absolutely amazing, I hope you're planning more MA in the future!) **for reading and reviewing.**

_Note1_: Big change from the fluff in FAtZ II, I am so over rating things K...

**Part Six: Crumble**

The airstrip had seen better days. He stood in the hangar door, listening to the flight preparations going on behind him, and stared up at the gray sky. The clouds were dark, thunder rumbled miles away, and he breathed in the scent of earth and threatening rain, forcing himself not to turn around.

He hunched into himself at the blast of cold wind trying to find the openings in his wool coat. It wasn't hard, he still wasn't used to wearing the high end clothes, didn't feel like they fit him quite right. At several points over the last few months he had wished for his beat-up leather jacket and a pair of cargo pants, but he knew how to act. How to pretend he fit until he actually did.

There was no point in fighting it. There was no going back now. No other choice. She hadn't left him one.

_He heard the door shut, heard her shuffle tentatively across the living room as if she had never set foot in the apartment before. As if she hadn't grumbled at him until he rearranged all the furniture to her liking. He heard her stop in the doorway, heard her gasp as she saw what he was doing._

_He didn't turn around._

"_You're leaving again?"_

_It hung in the air like an accusation. As if she had any right to begrudge him anything. His hands tightened on the edge of his last suitcase, knuckles white, and then he closed it. Zipped it. Set it on the floor and when he spoke the edge of finality was in his voice._

"_Yes."_

His eyes darted down the tarmac, bold lines and blue lights, and then back up to the sky. The storm would break soon, wash over him. Wash him away. He huffed silently, angry at himself for such depressing thoughts.

He wasn't that guy. He wouldn't let her make him that guy. Not again. Not any more.

They were over and done. Not like they had ever really been in the first place. Just some giant charade he had let her ensnare him in. Some act he had fit into too well. But it was over now, for good, and that was just fucking fine with him.

"_But you just got back."_

_She sounded like she was trying to be nonchalant. It fell flat._

"_I had business." An offer. Refused. "How was the wedding night?" He finally turned to look at her. "Was it everything you dreamed of and more?" His sarcasm made her flinch and he was glad. Glad he hurt her. Glad she looked so fragile and lost as she looked at him._

_He didn't need to wrap his arms around her. That wasn't something he wanted. Not at all._

"_Don't-" her voice caught. He watched the way her throat worked and her hands twisted. The way she wouldn't quite meet his eyes._

His eyes stung now, the wind making them water. Just the wind. Nothing more. Footsteps fell behind him, firm and determined. Lydecker.

"We need to load, son."

"I'm not your son."

But he turned anyway. Looked at the man who had helped make his childhood a nightmare, and he followed him.

"_Don't what?" he asked. His voice harsh across the distance, such a little space but it gaped between them, full of things unnamed and unspoken. "I can't ask my friend a personal question? Or…oh, that's right. We're not friends, are we? Never really were. Just fuck buddies, right?"_

"_Stop it."_

"_Stop what?" he pressed._

"_You know what."_

_His jaw clenched, her eyes narrowed, and they collided. With that ripping, roiling energy that told of desperation and hate and need and want and love and everything and nothing. Teeth clacked, tongues dueled, his hands tangled in her hair, tugging, and hers gripped at his shirt, bunched at his waist. She pushed against him and he stepped back, lost in her. Stepped back until he hit the bare mattress, knees buckling._

_And then he pushed her away. "No."_

_She stared at him. Eyes wild, breath hitching, her lips trembling and swollen. And he felt broken and raw and he knew it showed on his face because she was shaking her head, trying to grab his hands and he had to move. Had to get away. Out of her space and just…just away._

_She said his name and he wanted so bad to go to her. "No," he said again, trying for steady and failing miserably. "It was your choice. No."_

The plane rolled out past him, it was small, something he could handle if the pilot or co-pilot became incapacitated for any reason. But not something he would survive if it crashed.

This trip had been off the record, tampering would be almost impossible, but Lydecker had run a full check anyway. Couldn't risk politics' new Golden Boy, the Savior's right hand…not when he had proposed so many changes in legislation toward Transgenic Rights. Not when he was being considered a candidate for Washington's Senate race.

Not when Lydecker thought he was in control.

He let Lydecker think what he wanted. Only one person had any influence over him in the grand scheme of things, and she had given up that right.

"_You can't leave. Not when…not now. You're needed here. In Seattle. In Terminal City. You can't run away again. You can't shirk your responsibilities."_

_She was working up the righteous indignation. He was working up the righteous fury._

"_I'm representing my people out there. Our people. I'm helping. What are you doing?" He let his gaze slide over her, from the top of her head to the tip of her boots. Made it plain in his face that he found her lacking. "You're screwing around with an Ordinary. You're playing make-believe. You want to talk about Terminal City? About responsibility? Bring it the fuck on, bitch."_

_Her expression twisted from disbelief to anger. "What did you just say?"_

"_Bitch." He wasn't going to spell it out for her, not this time. She'd kicked him in the balls one too many times, physically and metaphorically._

"_Take it back."_

"_No."_

_She cringed. "I love him."_

_He laughed, he couldn't help it. "If that's love…then I guess my Webster's definition needs to be redefined."_

"_Don't make jokes, not when you don't know what love is."_

"_Don't know-"_

"_You don't. You think it's about possession. About staking a claim. About marking up what's yours. I'm not a toy. You can't own me! I'm not yours!"_

_She was shouting now, and he felt everything in him stop. Break. Crumble and crash and burn. "Yeah," he said, toneless, "You've made that clear."_

_She'd never understood what it meant. That it was supposed to go both ways. She'd never understood how he felt. Not when he said it, not when he showed it. Not ever. But that was her fault, not his. She hadn't wanted to understand._

"_You need to leave now."_

He could feel the metal mesh underneath his shoes, felt the wind blow harder, heard the propellers pick up speed and the engines whine.

He looked back at the hanger doors, watching them slide shut. And he knew.

_The door opened and he heard her pause. "Please don't leave," she mumbled, soft, like it was a prayer he wouldn't hear. But he always heard. She knew that._

_He was moving before he knew it, blurring, and the door slammed shut and she was tight against him. The curve of her back resting against his chest and her head fell forward, pressing her forehead to the warped wood of the door. Her hair parted, revealing her neck._

_Her barcode stood out, stark and black and unmarked. Unclaimed._

_His breath came out dry and hoarse. His throat felt tight and he bent, lips mouthing the tattoo, and she shuddered against him, gasping his name, and everything in him wanted to bite down until she bled. Until she understood._

"_Say it," he whispered, mouth tender on her skin, "Say it. Tell me and I'll stay."_

Three words. Three little words that she'd murmured. Told him, said his name, and he knew.

She wasn't coming.

Need wasn't love.

He wasn't staying.

The hangar doors closed with a metal clang. The sky opened up with a boom; thunder crashing, lightening sizzling, and rain pouring. He entered the plane, settled into his seat, and listened with half an ear to Lydecker as the colonel spoke of their itinerary in Olympia.

The other half of his attention was on the sky. His hand slid into his pocket, rubbing absently against lace and silk, and he began to rearrange himself. To put the puzzle pieces of his heart back together in some semblance of order. He let the rain and wind beating against the plane wash his old self away.

He would be someone new. Someone unbreakable. Someone she couldn't touch.

"Breakfast, Mr. McDowell?"

The flight attendant was perky, flirty, and honey blonde. He smiled.

"I'm not hungry."

"_I need you, Alec."_

To be continued…

_Note2: _This part had a little bit more 'real time' focus. I have this world mapped out, and I figured I'd let ya'll know a little bit more of what's going on in it.


	8. Part Seven: Call

The sizzle of bacon and the crack of egg shells on a skillet were the sounds she was focusing on

**Thank yous go out to:** Chica De Los Ojos Café, Seamagik (thank you so, so much!), quirkys (there are two kinds of cookies in this world, and Alec gets both of them D), OriginalBubble, darkaznangel452, purplebunnywabbit (I love that song! And you're right, it does fit the trend of the story, thanks for pointing that out!), FiveOfFive (yes, I'm evil, I admit it freely), jadedcutie494, anonymous (I don't know if this redeems her, but she's definitely not happy), T, src13, nickyO, chrisVIII, wrenbailey, JG, iluvaqt (thanks for the support), Radhika, Mahine, Binx23, and vancity.angel (who is anonymous…P, I haven't read the books, but from what I've heard, I don't understand how she forgave him either. As for Alec and someone else…yeah, that'll happen, _but_ he loves Max.) **for their awesome reviews!**

_Note1:_ Seamagik put up with my rambling insecurities for, like, two days with this part, but she has assured me it doesn't suck, and, as she is made of all things awesome and win, I'm believing her. Thanks again, sweetie!

**Part Seven: Call**

The sizzle of bacon and the crack of egg shells on a skillet were the sounds she was focusing on. Not his voice in the background, turned up high, as he spoke about the anniversary of the End of the Siege and the acceptance of transgenics in America. He sounded confident, proud, and yet managed to be humble. He sounded good.

The ringing of the phone cut through his words, broke into her bubble of peace, and she jumped a little at the disruption in the quiet stillness of the room. She picked up the phone before it could ring a second time, unwilling to let the harsh buzz interrupt the speech being broadcast across the country.

"Hello?"

"Are you watching this?"

Her eyes darted involuntarily to the inches of screen she could see from the kitchen and then focused back on the eggs, flipping them before they could stick to the pan. "I've caught some of it."

"He's amazing." His tone indicated his disbelief, as if the past six years hadn't proven that fact incontrovertibly.

"Yes."

_The pain was like nothing she'd ever felt before. Nothing like the torments of Manticore. Nothing like being beat within an inch of her life. Nothing like being shot. Nothing like snake venom seeping into her blood, paralyzing her… Nothing like letting him walk away._

_It was like being torn in two. As if her body was being ripped in half, and she screamed._

_And then it was over._

"They want me to transfer to Olympia. I think I can do some real good in the Capitol."

She turned the bacon over, watching the grease bubble. He always thought he could do the most good somewhere that was not Seattle. "We're not moving to Olympia."

He sighed, exasperated and condescending, and she closed her eyes against the sound. "We've talked about this."

"_I thought we talked about this." He was rushed, upset, and she couldn't find it in her to apologize._

"_We did," she agreed, "But he doesn't look like an Aaron Samuel." He looked perfect. Ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers that closed around hers when she touched his palm. "I named him Ben."_

_There was silence. She knew he was trying to come up with a tactful way to demand why she'd named their child after her psychotic brother, but he wasn't here. He was in California. He hadn't been here for eight hours of labor or the three months before that. She didn't have to explain her decision to him._

_Not to him._

"You talked," she corrected, "I listened and said no. We have friends here. We have family here. Seattle is home."

They had fought for it. To belong. They had fought and they had won. She wasn't giving up _home_ for his ambitions. Not now. Not ever. She'd already lost so much of herself to him, for him. There was only so much she could give and still feel like her.

_It hit her like a punch in the gut. His voice over the line. Smooth and impersonal, his words those of a stranger. Like she was an obligation, a mere acquaintance. Like she hadn't spent a year naked in his arms, letting him learn every curve of her body and every scar on her skin._

"_I hear congratulations are in order. A baby boy, Logan must be thrilled."_

_She breathed deep, trying to stay even, to keep that fragile amount of control. She traced a hand over Ben's back as he lay in his cradle, sucking on a little fist. The cotton material, grass green, was warm beneath her fingers. He gave of heat like a human furnace and she loved cuddling him to her. He grounded he;, the feel of him, the scent of him._

"_Yes," she said, "His name is Ben."_

_She can hear him suck in his own breath and when he speaks again it has that hint of teasing, of acknowledgement. "I bet the Logster just loved that."_

"_He wasn't there."_

"_What?" There's anger there, barely hidden, like he can't understand why a conference on cyberjournalism would be more important than the birth of a child. To tell the truth, she can't understand it either._

"_I had Joshua and Cindy, they're his godparents." She remembered Joshua's snuffling, 'cat' he'd said, and the look in OC's eyes when she caught sight of the barcode on his flushed pink skin._

"_Good choices."_

"_I know."_

"We can't keep doing this."

"I know." She wonders at how she can be so serene in the face of his frustration, where once it would have shamed her, made her try harder. She was tired of trying. She wanted to ask if he was as drained as she was. If it would hurt him as much to admit they weren't working, hadn't ever fit no matter how hard they struggled. That they were living some fractured fairytale that couldn't find a way to happily ever after. "Do you want to talk to Ben?" she asked instead.

"He's up this early?"

The reluctance in his voice was easy to read, he had never learned to mask his emotions as she had. Her grip on the phone tightened, "It's a special day. He wanted to see the ceremony."

"He could have taped it, slept in…"

"He is taping it. You know how much he admires our great Senator." There's a sting in the statement, because she knows how much Ben's admiration of Alec annoys Logan. They'd stopped getting along when Ben was four and his level of intelligence led to him asking questions Logan didn't know the answers to. A year later and they still couldn't find the rapport they should have had since the beginning, but had never quite managed.

"Does he want to talk to me?" Hope lilts his voice, just a bit, but they both know it's a lost cause. Ben is hers in every way, and he's just the man that lives with them three months out of a year.

"_I sent flowers."_

_It was an offering of peace, hesitant, but there. "I got them," she replied softly, "and the stuffed bear. It's in his crib." She wants to say so many things, but all that comes out is, "Thank you." She can hear his shrug through the phone and combs her fingers lightly through Ben's dark blonde curls, thumb brushing his barcode._

"_So, he look like you or Logan?"_

"_He looks like his father." The statement is true. She can tell his hair will darken to light brown and the blue-green of his eyes will change to a green hazel. He already has a smattering of freckles across the miniature features of his face._

She looks up, and the television is off and Ben is standing at the base of the counter. He's dressed already, dark jeans and a t-shirt. His look is curious as she hands him his breakfast. "Do you want to talk to your dad?"

The look that crossed his face is one of distaste and he shakes his head, digging into the eggs after coating them with salt.

"I'm sorry, Logan, I think he went back to bed," she tells her husband, taking the salt-shaker away, "I'll tell him you called, though." She knew he could tell she was lying, but he sighed and accepted it. She hated him a little for that. For never pushing.

"I've got to get to a meeting. About Olympia…Can we talk about it when I get home next week?"

She doesn't bother to lower her voice, Ben had superior hearing as well as cat-like reflexes, and he would want to know. Want to know it was ending. "There's nothing to talk about Logan, Ben and I aren't leaving Seattle."

_She wants to say she's sorry. She wants to say he needs to come home. She wants to say she made a mistake and she doesn't know how to take it back or how to fix it._

_She won't say any of those things._

_She listens to him talk about life in D.C. and how he's playing Lydecker, and what the hot spots are like, and that he's fitting in all right. She listens to the tentativeness in his tone when he tells her he misses Seattle and Terminal City and knows he's saying that he misses her._

_He knows she won't ask, but he'll forgive her anyway. It's just what he does, even when she doesn't deserve it._

_Words come out, spilling and tripping off her tongue until they're having a real conversation. Like they're curled up on the beat-up couch in his apartment, just talking, connecting, instead of thousands of miles apart. She tells him about her pregnancy and Ben's birth. About all the cards and well-wishers that came from all over. Nationwide gawkers to the spectacle of the Savior's first child._

_Only child._

_She wants to tell him so many things. Say so much. But she can't. Not until he says good-bye and she's listening to a dial tone._

Logan hangs up when she suggests a separation, tells her they'll talk about it next week and she knows they won't.

The lease on the penthouse is up in two months. After that…she steals a piece of bacon of her son's plate and he scowls at her. She gives him a wink, dropping a kiss on top of his curls, and humming out of tune under her breath. After that, they'll just have to see.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"It'll be okay."

She looks at him; green eyes serious, but mouth stretched wide in a reassuring smile that turns into a smirk as he steals half of his bacon back. She laughs, just a little, because Ben is _hers_, but he's also _his_.

"I know."

"_He's your son, Alec."_

**TBC…**

_Note2: _Okay, so you'll have noticed that a lot of time has passed between part 6 and part 7 and what this means is that the next update will be an interlude filled with snippets of the in-between times so that you all will know what's going on in their world and will get some insight from different POVs.


	9. Interlude Two: Consequences

Hero

**Interlude Two: Consequences**

_Hero_

He enjoyed the clink of champagne flutes and the muted hush of voices talking about him. He hadn't expected for Eyes Only to be outed, but the benefits of the unveiling were hard to deny. He was no longer a black sheep, but a prince, welcomed back into the fold with open arms and false smiles. He didn't think being a Cale again would feel this good, but nothing could beat the look on Aunt Margo's face when she saw Max wearing his ring and his mother's necklace.

"Hail the conquering hero." Daphne murmurs, smiling beside him, "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

_Imposter_

Cindy's bitching about pearl buttons and how it's going to take half an hour to get her into the old-fashioned dress. She's barely listening, offering an 'hmm' whenever it seems appropriate.

She's getting married.

The little vanity in the back room of the church is covered in make-up that she had brought and the stylists hadn't used. There's a veil Cindy's supposed to attach to her elaborately coiffed hair, she fingers the diamonds of the tiara absently as she stares at her reflection.

The girl in the mirror looks flawless. Beautiful.

The girl in the mirror doesn't look like Max.

_Jealous_

He'd watched, hidden, as she walked down the aisle to Logan, hoping she'd change her mind. That she'd say no, that she couldn't, that she was in love with someone else. And when she turned to leave, he'd be there, waiting.

A fantasy. A fairytale. Make-believe.

Sometimes, they were too alike, the pair of them, wanting something that would never be real.

And now… He saw it on the cover of a tabloid, a grainy picture; 'Baby on Board' it proclaimed. It ripped through him, white-hot and hurtful. He felt nauseous and angry. His protective bubble broken, useless.

_Not mine._

_Kiss_

She hated leaving Ben, but Logan was waiting and Cindy was baby-sitting, and _he_ was going to be there. So she leaned over and brushed her lips to her baby's forehead, quick and gentle as he gurgled up at her. She could feel her heart swell and she-

"Max, we have to go."

She went. To some politician's house where she made nice as she waited, body trembling in anticipation.

And then he was there; smirking at Logan and he looked at her, the first time in almost two years, eyes dark as he kissed her palm. "Alec."

"Hello, Maxie."

_Last_

"Planning on stealing the Matisse?" He was lounging against the office desk, staring at the painting on the wall. "Don't bother, it's a fake."

She smiled, shut the door on the tinkling sounds of yet another society party, and went to him. Logan was somewhere, making connections, but up here it was quiet and cut-off. Up here it was just the two of them. He murmured something against her neck, hands tugging her dress up, and she let go and gave in.

After, he looked at her seriously and her heart clenched. "We can't do this anymore, Max. I can't."

_Mind_

The move had been for the best; he found himself liking D.C. and enjoying his job. It was unexpected, but welcome. He's content here, happy to have something to take his mind off of the past.

He'd been weak before; unable to resist calling, unable to stop at just seeing her. The affair had been brief, but being able to touch her again, to breathe her in again…He thought this time was so much worse than the first. Now he knew he could still have her. Now he knew how easy it would be to pretend.

He wouldn't break again.

_Name_

When Ben is four she takes him to the vault in Terminal City and shows him his birth certificate. She traces the words on the thin slip of paper as she tells Ben what it says.

"This is your name; Benjamin Alexander McDowell." It's typed in black ink, the Seal of the City stamped in the corner. "Your initials are B.A.M. That's why Uncle Joshua calls you 'Bam.'"

He looks at her, features scrunched with concentration, and then those wide hazel eyes meet hers and she can see her beautiful, brilliant son understands what she's saying. And then he smiles.

_Open_

The door is open and she enters while he's on the phone, plunking herself down on his bed and smiling. He hangs up and looks at her curiously, "What's new in the news, Lin?"

"I'm horny."

"That isn't exactly a breaking headline," he murmurs, getting up to sit next to her and reeling her in for a kiss. Lin Li works the gossip beat for the Post. She's beautiful, smart, ambitious, and never makes him look bad on paper.

"Hmm, all readers want to know is who the hunky Senator McDowell is banging." Her smile is completely wicked.

"No comment."

_Promise_

Max hadn't been Max for a while. She'd lost her spark. Her only passion for life came in the form of an almost-six year old little boy who OC had promised to love like a son. A little boy who looked nothing like the man who claimed to be his father. He was a little hellion; too smart for his own good, and a boatload of trouble. Ben made a sister want to settle down and adopt.

However, when Max breezed into Cindy's apartment that afternoon, Ben on her hip, she looked nineteen again and glowing. "I'm leaving Logan."

Halleluiah.

_Quarantine_

Ben knew, logically, that he shouldn't install a virus on his dad's computer. But he was eight, missing his mom, and bored out of his skull, so he did it anyway. Four hours later, watching his dad frantically trying to save his data as the words 'Quarantine Failed' flashed red on the screen, he felt guilty.

Just not guilty enough.

"It's all gone…"

It wasn't that he didn't like Logan; he just thought he was an absent father and a neglectful husband. Ben was sure his real dad would do a better job.

As soon as he knew Ben existed…

_Rune_

It showed up overnight. She found it after her morning shower, displayed prominently right between her breasts. She stared at for a long time, long enough that Ben was pounding on the door to tell her it was time for him to go to school, and then she put her clothes on and forgot about it.

When she changed for bed she saw it again, dark against her skin, and she pressed her fingers to it, remembering the way Alec had once traced every single rune on her body with his lips and his tongue.

It was gone by morning.

_Sunday_

It was Sunday when it happened. Lin was working on her laptop and he was putting together a sandwich, and then the phone rang. Lin answered it, as easy in his home as she was in hers. Lin answered it, blinked, and held the receiver out to him. "It's the Vice President," she said, and he could hear the banked excitement in her voice.

"Hello?" His mouth felt dry and he didn't understand it. He'd interacted with the VP before, they got along well, but this was something else. He heard her out, everything outlined succinctly, and he said, "Yes."

_Touch_

The class field trip to Olympia wasn't exciting. Ben had been all over both cities, explored the capitol building in and out, and he certainly wasn't staying when he knew Senator McDowell was visiting somewhere in the city. He'd snuck away from the group; it hadn't been hard, although Eve had given him a _look_ before shooing him off.

It was a stroke of luck that Ben found him at all. He was sitting outside a café, and all Ben could do was stare from two feet away. This was his father, close enough to touch, and he couldn't move.

TBC…


	10. Part Eight: Cede

From Part Seven: **Thanks to** Chica De Los Ojos Café, FiveOfFive, vancity angel, jadedcutie494 (she said it after Alec had hung-up), OriginalBubble, src13, UniteddetinU, Seamagik (have we switched from shovels to volcanoes now? Cool!), wrenbailey, tvmaniac2008, darkaznangel452 (yes, there will be a happy ending…kind of…), rose (yes, Max is selfish, it's a character flaw), t, Kare38, JG, chrisVIII (Max forgot how to fight for awhile there, being passive is her way of trying to deal with this life she's carved out for herself and no longer wants, if she ever did), Roxie156, nickyO, quirkys (Oh, yes, she did), imtweetybird, purplebunnywabbit, and Michelle Amethyst **for your reviews!**

_Note1:_ I'm glad everyone seems to like Ben, because I have to be honest, I adore him.

From Interlude Two: **Thanks go to** darkaznangel452 (still a mostly happy ending), FiveOfFive (wow, individual reviews, um, how to respond; Max is emotionally stunted, this lends to stupid decisions regarding Alec. Alec is awesome and a sucker for punishment, this lends to stupid decisions regarding Max. Logan is absent and focused on work and doesn't have time for his family, but takes them for granted anyway. Lin is Alec's friend with benefits, she won't be a problem. You will find out what Alec was talking to the VP about in this chapter, sort of, no, now that i've reread it, not at all, but soon. Ben…is just awesome.), part robin, Chica De Los Ojos Café, KariHermione, vancity angel (no, Ben doesn't go up to Alec, that would ruin my storyline. As for Logan and Max, they're separated, not divorced…not yet, anyway.), aliffec (They have split custody for now, Ben was in Olympia with Logan while Max was still in Seattle. Alec's reaction toward Max keeping secrets will be, hmm, what's a good word? I want to say, explosive.), rogue.star.lover, wrenbailey, nickyO, Evie205 (Transgenics are readily-accepted in society, there are a few reservations, but with Max pretty much saving the world, people are a lot more open. Alec started as a Councilman for Seattle, and being the charming, brilliant, manipulative hot-ass that he is, got a lot of attention in politics. I know Senators are usually older, but I'm using the Pulse as an excuse to shake the processes for the legislative and executive branches up. Or, you can just pretend that Alec is so awesome that rules do not apply to him), Roxie156, Seamagik (Muah-ha-ha…ha), T, quirkys, and Sonam (Thank you. I really appreciate you taking the time to leave such a thoughtful review on my writing style. It means a lot, and I hope this fic and my writing continues to hold your interest. Thank you so much! (And yes, the Alphabet Game has run rampant. I love it!)) **for your reviews and support!**

_Note2:_ As the Interlude contained moments from the missing years, I thought I'd specify when each took place, just so we're where we need to be for Part Eight. H took place pre-Five; I during-Five; J post-Five; K,L, and M post-Six but pre-flashback-Seven; N pre-realtime-Seven; O and P post-Seven; Q, R, and S two years post-Seven; and T three and a half years post-Seven, a few months pre-Eight. If any of that makes any sense… Just know that Part Eight takes place approximately ten years after Max married Logan and almost three years since they separated.

_Note3_: This was the third part I ever wrote for this fic, so I've been hanging onto it for a long time. And, now that I've written a page of review responses and notes, let's get onto the fic, shall we?

**Part Eight: Cede**

The Art Mall was busy. He looked around with a sense of pride at his fellow transgenics and transhumans interacting with the Ordinaries, smiling and participating in good-natured haggling at the prices of the pieces. It made him feel like the last ten years had made a difference. It made his decision that much easier.

"Alec."

His smile was automatic, and he hugged Joshua back just as fiercely as the dog man hugged him. "Hey, Josh."

"Alec back."

He shrugged, smile becoming uncomfortable. "Just for a bit, I have some business to take care of and I thought I'd stop by and see what you were up to."

Joshua cocked his head to the side, regarding him with that searching gaze that came from him so unexpectedly. "Lil' fella know?"

"She's aware."

"_Alec."_

"_Max."_

"_You're here."_

_She looked different, and yet, the same. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown that made her look softer, and the expression on her face was something he'd never seen before. Something that set his heart thumping painfully._

"Want a tour?"

"Please." He jumped away from the topic of Max and started toward a sculpture that looked to him like a mass of computer wires and duct tape. "Explain this to me."

"_I should go." He swallowed hard, taking a step back._

"_No!" She reached out and he stopped, staring at the hand that had caught his jacket. "Wait, please, I-"_

"_Max, I can't." To see her again…God, he shouldn't have come, he was such an idiot._

"_Please, just to catch up…I made cookies." She said it like peace offering, eyes hopeful, and he found himself falling into those brown depths._

"_You? Baked cookies?" The skepticism of their old banter was easy to drum up. They were still Max and Alec, for all the drama. Max who burnt scrambled eggs and undercooked oatmeal. Max who argued with him at the drop of a hat. Max who always had to have her way. And Alec who could never tell her no and mean it._

_Even after all this time._

He watched the photo projector as it slid pictures across the white wall. Pictures of the building of Terminal City, stills from the siege, captures from the rebuilding, snapshots of children both X and freak, and photographs of acceptance. He saw his own face flash across a few times, the first had him taking bets and the last had him shaking the President-elect's hand as he stood beside her after a debate.

"This is good. Inspirational." He looked to Joshua, who was still watching the slideshow as it started over.

"Yes." The shaggy head nodded. "Bam very sensitive, knows people, what they need." His blue eyes pierced Alec again, but whatever he was trying to convey didn't make it through. "Bam looks up to you."

"_You baked these?" _

"_Shut up!" she exclaimed, laughing. Her hand smacked against his shoulder as effortlessly as it used to when they were young and he found himself frozen, watching her light up with a carefree joy he'd seen only glimpses of in her before._

_It was too much, and not enough. "I have to go." It came out as a desperate whisper and he was trying to put on his jacket before she'd registered what he'd said. How dare she invite him into her home, bare of all things Logan, and act like he shouldn't hate her? Act like they were friends? They were never friends. _

_He couldn't stay here, near her. It was just too damn much. _

"_Alec!"_

_He stopped, again, because the plea in her voice tore at his heart, and pressed his forehead against the wood of the door he hadn't opened. "I can't do this, Max, not anymore. Not again." He couldn't let her break him again. He turned to look at her, the girl he knew underneath the woman he didn't but desperately wanted to, and he heard the tiredness in his own voice. "It's not enough."_

"_I'm sor-"_

_Too much. Not enough. She tasted like some half-remembered dream. He knew the way this played out, over and over, knew the thoughts and feelings, but the rest remained hazy and indistinct. He woke up yearning and never quite knowing what he ached for._

"Alec stay?"

He drew his attention from the crowds, from smiling and waving as people stared at him, and gave Joshua a regretful smile. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss Seattle. If he said he didn't miss TC and the people in it. If he didn't miss _her_. But it had been so long, too long, and D.C. was home now. He had responsibilities, friends, and a future. He had a life that didn't revolve around the biting need he always felt whenever he was here or even near here.

"No, Joshua, I can't." Not if he wanted to stay sane. And he needed to stay stable. To remain strong and whole. He couldn't break again, couldn't give in again. He couldn't come back here again. Distance had made it easy to push aside, the wanting and aching and needing, but just one day…one moment in her presence and he felt weak and out of control.

He'd given in. Yielded. Surrendered. Conceded defeat. He was still hers, only hers.

_Smooth. So smooth and soft. She shuddered against him, hands reaching for his skin, and yes, he thought, clothes were a problem. But not for long._

_They were both eager, half-laughing, half-holding their breath as they stumbled forward, kicking off jeans, shucking shirts…She led him, hands firmly entwined in his, down a hallway, past pictures he didn't see, and into a room that smelled like her. Just like her. _

_He stilled; breathing deeply, scenting the air, and it was still only her he smelled. Lush, floral, and slightly like leather, with an edge of chocolate that was new and enticing. She watched him, eyes almost quiet but for the spark of excitement in them. She watched him and he watched her._

_He took in the sight of her. Half-naked, flushed, lips kiss-swollen, and that feeling rose up in him again. That need to claim, to mate, to make his…_

_He stepped closer and she reached for him. Welcomed him…_

His thoughts were unwanted, flashes of memory he couldn't separate himself from enough to repress. Instead, he focused on Joshua, letting the feel of her body around him fade. "So, Big Fella, what have you been working on? Joshua #6005?"

Josh huffed, "946."

He was led to a little alcove; painting after painting on display. Some in racks, some on walls, and some with little tags attached that read 'sold', others with a dollar amount. And one, one right it the middle, a giant clash of beige and gold with forest green and leaf green and tiny smears of red and white, blue and black. It was like a firework put to canvas. Explosive, heart-pounding, captivating.

He'd seen similar. Joshua had painted one of him once; dark center with a ring of frenetic color. She had one above her bed. All black but for the center; a ball of red and blue and green and gold as it's heart. He'd gazed up at it last night with her head nestled against his shoulder, her slender fingers caressing his abdomen. It was her, she'd said, as Joshua saw her.

He stared at it. "Who?"

"Bam."

_He woke up tangled in her, sunlight peeking through the blinds, and she fast asleep in his arms. Her face was gentle, young with sleep, and she must have just dozed off. He smiled, tracing the line of her nose, the curve of her lips…Even she needed at least two hours._

_She'd stayed, he realized, wrapped up in him, against him, feeling him, all night. Until she couldn't keep awake any more._

_It made his heart skip and he bent his head, his lips close to her neck, watching her pulse beat and listening to the tiny noises she made. Before, so long ago it was almost the beginning, he'd done this whenever he got the chance. Just listened to her breath, unguarded, and reveled in the closeness._

_Now…He removed himself swiftly, silently. Now his mark no longer claimed her. Now he had no right to these moments. And she had no right to let him think he could have them again._

_This was…_

_He dressed swiftly, following the trail of discarded clothes until he was back in the kitchen where he'd lost himself again. He pulled on his shirt, buttoning up slowly, and glanced back down the hallway._

_She was standing there, sheets clasped to her chest all sleep-rumpled and gorgeous. And he wanted it to be any other day, her seeing him off to work with a kiss and a heavy-eyed smile. He wanted it to be real. That was why he had to leave._

"_Alec-"_

"_This was a mistake."_

"Is it…for sale?" he asked. The painting had no price tag, no amount affixed to it, but he wanted it. It spoke to him like no piece of art ever had.

"No," Joshua said, "Not for sale."

"_We need to talk," she said._

_He shook his head, "We never talk. We fuck." He looked away as she dropped the sheet, finding her blouse and jeans. "We fuck and we never fix anything." He rested his hands on the countertop, feeling her close behind him, heat pressing into his side. "We can't- We keep screwing up." He wheeled around at the touch of her hands on his back, so light, but he could feel it to his core. "I have to go. I can't see you again. Not if…Not when…I shouldn't have come."_

"_Alec-"_

_His fingers found her face, interrupting her, and he felt so wild and out of control at the sad, yearning look in her eyes. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to stay. To be hers again. But the need was so overwhelming, so much, and an affair was so little. He wanted all of her or nothing at all. And she couldn't promise him that._

_He left a whisper on her lips and headed for the exit. She followed, feet quick, and he turned at the door, a hint of his old smirk playing on his face. "Thanks for the cookies."_

_She choked on a noise that sounded like a sob and he left, steps measured down the hallway to the elevator and he knew if he glanced back she'd be there, standing at the door, seeing him off. He didn't look back._

_Not until the doors opened and a child darted out of them, backpack over one shoulder and a sleeping bag in the other hand. He watched his progress down the corridor as he entered the elevator, saw her reach out, hand resting on golden curls. Her son._

_He could feel tears burn his eyes as they turned to look at him, and then the doors shut._

_Not mine. Not for me._

"Alec want Bam?" Joshua asked, and he could feel his friend's gaze burrowing into him.

He continued staring at the artwork, fingers practically twitching to trace the lines of paint. "Yes."

"Then a gift," Joshua said softly, stretching his arms upward to take the painting down. He barely looked up to say thank you as Josh let him take hold of it. "For Alec."

"_It's not enough, Max."_

**To be continued…**

_Note4_: Seriously, how many notes can I make? Anyhoo, you'll get another interlude soon and then just two more parts until the end. Can you believe it?


	11. Part Nine: Confession

Woo, final stretch here people, yay! I know it's been a _long_ time since an update, but my Muse just came back – I had part nine sitting in Word for two months because it just wasn't working, and finally I just got rid of it all and wrote this. I am planning, cross your fingers, for this fic to be finished this week. We only have ten and the epilogue to go, so it shouldn't be that hard now that I'm all inspired and stuff.

First off, thanks to everyone reading this now for hanging in there through the update drought, I know how frustrating it is for readers, but I really appreciate you sticking with it!

Secondly, review responses/thanks: chance32 (here you go), Punkie, purplebunnywabbit, FlamablePajamies, LunaSoleil07 (Josh is pretty awesome, isn't he?), Evie205, inzane73, supernana494. nickyO, chrisIII (everything always works out in the end, never fear), wrenbailey, src13, emma, vancity angel (wow, following that AN? You have skillz. I'm gonna try to answer your questions; 1. No, Alec doesn't know that Ben's nickname is Bam, 2. Logan suspected, Max finally told him at the end, 3. Josh and Cindy feel its Max's business, although Josh tried to drop some hints in the last chapter, 4. He'll be hurt, and that'll put some strain on the relationships, but they're still his friends, 5. No, and finally yes, I firmly believe in happy endings), T, Chica De Los Ojos Café, CherryWolf713, OriginalBubble, FiveOfFive (I don't have duct tape, but I do have tissues and chocolate covered peanuts. Oh, and an update. Will that help?), darkaznangel452, and KariHermione. **You guys are awesome!**

Thirdly: Seamagik was nice enough to faux-beta in an objective manner, and really, you should all thank her, because if she wasn't leaving soon, I might not've kicked my Muse in the derriere to get going… Lurve you, Sea!

And finally, fic:

**Part Nine: Confession**

There was nothing in the refrigerator that could constitute as real food. She stood, staring at the strange collection of edible options on the shelves and found none that she would willingly give him for breakfast. She stood, letting the cold air waft from the insides, thirty-six degrees the internal temperature gauge said, and wondered what she would say when he woke up. What he would say.

The only thing she could think to ask was why he didn't have any cereal in his cupboards. He loved cereal.

Soft knocking, and she turned, closed the refrigerator door, and padded through the unfamiliar penthouse to the elevator.

_The doors dinged open and she had to restrain herself from leaping out of her seat at the table. Had to actually grip the oak-stained wood to keep from running to him. Her skin felt too hot, her need too great, and he was here. Finally._

She watched the young man in an old-fashioned bellhop uniform as he fiddled around with the silver tray, touching the petals of the lily in a vase and the gold-plated napkin rings. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of him living in a place with food service, but she didn't.

She just smiled when the boy finally noticed her, jumping in surprise, and thanked him for the meal, pretending not to notice the way he stuttered and stared when he realized who she was.

_There was a woman with him. Laughing, clinging to his arm, and she felt it like a knife. Like a deep, aching cut that couldn't be stitched up. He was hers, just hers, only hers, for always._

_The laughter faded, the woman left, and they stayed where they were. Tableau unbroken, eyes searching, until he asked, "What are you doing here?" He sounded unhappy, as cut up as she did, and for some reason that made her heart beat faster._

"_I needed you."_

Her hands were steady as she set out ceramic plates, silverware, and glasses. She remembered paper plates, chipped cups, eating over a sink…It was funny how things changed. A fork dropped, tines vibrating upon impact with the hardwood floor, and she bent to retrieve it, feeling the sting of well-used muscles and the stretch of satisfaction.

It was funny how things stayed the same.

_The sound he made was harsh, his eyes dark. "You don't get to need me anymore."_

_But she did. She couldn't help it. Need mixed with want, roiled around inside her and pulsed through her veins like blood. She found her feet, moved toward him, those few steps taken in less than a heartbeat and he drew in a sharp gasp. He took in the scent of her, breathed her deep, and fell to his knees._

_She touched his forehead with light fingers, shivering at the feel of skin to skin, and he turned his face upward, pleading for benediction. Despair and anger merged with the heat and hope in his eyes and jumbled together until he lost the battle._

_His head bowed, barcode standing out against the pale skin of his neck and she pressed her fingers to it, traced it with her fingertips. He made a noise, of protest or encouragement, she didn't know. Didn't care._

_He trembled when she curved over him, her mouth hot on his skin, and the she nipped, felt him shudder, and something primal took hold and she bit. Broke skin. Something that would bruise. Something that would mark._

_Something that would claim._

_He surged to his feet, sweeping her up into his arms, locking them tight around her, and she tugged his lips down to hers as he carried her blindly to where they both needed to be._

Not gentle. Heat could never be described as gentle. Overwhelming, intense, passionate, necessary. But not gentle. She knew she was just as used up as he would be this morning. She knew she was happier about it than he would be. But he was the one who didn't understand this time.

She wasn't sure how to explain it to him.

_It had been so long since she'd been allowed this. This feeling of being so out of control. Of being with him free of inhibitions or rationality._

_She relished the lack of control. Of restraint. Of power._

_She gave herself over to him. All of her, every bit of her, was his. And he was hers. She got it, understood it, and wanted to make sure he understood it. That he realized she knew she was his for always. Only his._

"_Yours," she whispered, her body tight around his, her eyes wide as he looked into them. She willed him to see the truth behind the heat, the love behind the lust, "I'm yours."_

_His eyes went hotter, pupils expanding, but he said nothing. Simply took her mouth with his, his body pushing harder and deeper until she cried out for completion._

He would have to talk to her now. She'd come after him. She'd come for him. He couldn't run away this time. She wouldn't let him.

"Why?"

His voice was raw, and when she turned, his eyes were bloodshot despite all the sleep he'd gotten. His hand touched the back of his neck and his body quivered, a fine tremor that ran through him. She remembered what it felt like, to be marked like that, to brush against it…It felt like a storm washing over you; the rush of memory, the feel of teeth, until it bleed away to just a hint, a rumbling, of that thunder and lightening. It was an addiction, a reassurance.

She hadn't known what it was until it was gone.

"You had no right," he continued.

Heat didn't care about rights. It cared about what was hers, and he was hers. She'd spent so long being held back, locked away, when it hit. Begging, pleading, needing to find him, and not being able to.

She'd refused the safe room this time. Now that she knew he still wanted her, craved her, needed her, loved her. Now that she could give him what he wanted.

"I had every right."

_Body bending, yielding, opening, and she felt whole for the first time in forever. Felt full and warm and absolute since he's walked away again._

_The first time she felt right since she'd let him._

"You are such-"

"We need to talk," she interrupted, "We need to talk and not fight."

"We tried that, it didn't work."

"Because you ran away!" She bit her lip, tried to calm herself. This would never work if she couldn't get out the words.

He shook his head, rocking on the balls of his feet as his jaw clenched. He was angry and wounded. He felt off balance, she could see it. He wasn't used to her confronting him. She avoided, side-stepped, hid. Not this time.

"You need to come back with me. You need to come home."

_Worn out, fucked out, tired. He slept like the dead, and she used her hands to sketch out the muscles of his back as he drooled onto his pillow._

He snorted in disbelief, "You think last night meant something?"

"Yes." He was trying to hurt her. It wouldn't work. Not this time. "I think it did."

"I told you," he murmured tightly, "It's not enough. Not for me. I won't play the role of dirty secret, not again."

She could give him this then, finally, before she gave him everything. "Logan and I-"

"I don't care."

She smiled, "We're divorced."

He gaped at her, speechless for once. "What?" he demanded faintly, and then tensed, "That doesn't mean anything."

"It means everything."

_She smiled and spoke the words that had been on the tip of her tongue for nearly forever. "I love you, Alec."_

"No-"

"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't know before. I'm sorry I put us through years of heartache. I'm sorry you didn't get to see your son grow up. But I'm here now, and you're here now, and there's so much we can do. So much we can be. Just say yes, just come home." The confession came tumbling out; full of things she'd longed to say, needed to say. Things that had eaten away at her soul for so long.

His eyes widened, his breathing quickened. "My son..?"

"Ben. He's yours, all yours. _We're_ yours."

He made a sound like he was dying; a choking, gasping wheeze, and then he shut down. She could she his Manticore training slam into place and she felt her heart sink, break, and crumble. But when he spoke, it wasn't emotionless, it was deadly. "You need to leave."

_Her fingers glided over the button for the lobby, and she met his eyes as she waited for the doors to close. "Please," she said softly, "Please, just…"_

Ben met her at the airport, hazel eyes searching behind her, gaze solemn when he saw she was alone. "He's not coming?"

She ran her fingers over his newly shorn hair and smiled. "He'll come, baby."

"_Just come home, Alec."_

**To be continued…**

As you all probably know, I love feedback. Any questions, just let me know!


	12. Part Ten: Commencement

**Thanks to**: Leona Cazadora, nickyO, src13, chrisVIII, Amy-Loves-Adam, fee-kh, seatergirl71, NShadows, Jaby, PyroDeScorpio2, malec luver (No, they can mate anytime, but Alec was more likely to give in under the influence of pheromones. Yes, the woman was Alec's reporter friend. And wow, you read it all at once!), iluvaqt (welcome back! P.S. got your pm, glad it was more coherent the second time around!), jadedcutie494, CherryWolf713, Willow-98, vancity angel, T, Kare38, Midnight Parallax (1. Yes, Logan finds out, and 2. Touch isn't a spoiler, sorry!), chance32, Mahine, Chica De Los Ojos Café, wrenbailey, KariHermione, and, as always, Seamagik, **for all your feedback**!

_Note1: _Okay, this is pretty much the end, disregarding the epilogue. I realize it's not probably what a lot of you are expecting, but it's what I wrote and I'm happy with it. That being said, I hope you enjoy it…

**Part Ten: Commencement**

Early morning light streamed in through the glass. The lettering on the window cast shadows onto the table, darkening his hands around his coffee mug, as he waited. He focused on his mug, on not grimacing at the taste of instant coffee when he was so used to the real thing, and ignored the other patrons even though he could feel their eyes on him.

He knew what they were whispering about. He didn't need suped-up hearing for that, it was being broadcast on every news channel and it was splashed in full colored photos across the front pages of the newspapers even though it was days later.

He supposed he deserved it. After all, it wasn't every day that the odds on favorite candidate for Vice President got into a fist fight with the Savior of the world.

"_Do you know what you're doing?" _

_Lin sounded incredulous, and he tried to see it as she was seeing it. Tried to look at his bags bulging with haphazard packing with an objective eye. Tried not to feel the burn of the mark on the back of his neck. _

_He tried and he failed._

_All he could see was the way she had looked at him. All he could hear was her voice telling him she had lied to him. All he could feel was the anger and pain and need that were threatening to consume him. He hitched his carry-on over his shoulder, and leaned over to kiss Lin's forehead. She had been a good friend, one of his best, and he was going to miss her. "I hope so," he murmured, and left._

His watch read 9:14am. It was an old-fashioned thing with a wide strap and hands ticking the time away second by second. He watched it until the minute hand hit the twelve and then it was 9:15, and the bell above the diner door jingled.

She was early.

Every head turned to track her progress, he could see phones being flipped open and the clicks of cameras. She stopped at the hostess's podium, a pause to let the paparazzi get a good shot as she looked around, and then she saw him and she smiled.

He thought his heart stopped at the sight and he wondered, frozen. What was it about her that kept him coming back? What was it that made it impossible to stay gone? After all she had put him through, all the games she had played…Why couldn't he say no? Why wouldn't he?

But he knew the answer to that, had always known the answer to that. And there was no point in denying it now, not after that night last week, not after all the days leading up to this morning. This moment. He had come to her, _for_ her. For Ben and for everything they could be. He had come, waved a slightly blood-stained flag of surrender, and that had been the end of it. Or, he thought, his heart starting to beat once more as she got closer, it was the start.

_In hindsight, calling in favors to borrow Air Force One probably wasn't the most discreet way to get to Seattle, but he could admit he wasn't really thinking straight. He just needed to get to her. To them. He had a son. He had- And she had kept this secret from him. She had lied to him._

_The anger was boiling, spilling over into jerky movements and narrowed eyes as he stalked toward her building. He was aware, distantly, of the media that had been tracking him since he arrived so unexpectedly at the airport. They'd followed, eagerly anticipating what, he didn't know. And right now, he didn't care. Not when he looked up and there she was, her phone in hand as she exited the complex, surprise all over her face when she saw him. They stared, a step apart, and he could see the smile start to curve her lips, he could see the way she'd say his name, practically hear the soft, pleased sound of it._

_It made it worse. All the deception, all the torment…Years, he had waited, not even knowing what he was waiting for. That he was waiting at all. Years that she had wasted. Made _them_ waste._

_She had lied to him, and he was mad at her._

"_Hit me," he demanded._

_She blinked and said, "I'll call you back Gem, thanks for watching him." She snapped the cell shut, placed it into her purse, and looked at him, frowning, eyeing his fists as they clenched and unclenched. "You really want to do this?" she asked softly._

"_Hit me," he said again, jaw tight._

_Sighing, she dropped her purse and complied. He'd started it, dropped the gauntlet, and part of him was only all too satisfied that she had never been able to back down from a fight._

She slid into the booth across from him, and there was no hesitation in the action, no question of whether she was welcome. Her bottom lip was slightly puffy, but the swelling was minimal. His own black eye had faded enough to not be noticeable unless a person was looking for it.

He wanted to regret the blow. He'd never, ever, been the one to hit first. That was always her. She was the one who lashed out, he merely defended himself. She'd taken the first swing, but he'd pushed. He'd needed it, the physicality of it, the feel of flesh and the bite of bone. For so long, that had been all they were to one another, until he'd changed. Until they'd changed.

He'd needed, just for a small space of time, to go back. To be able to hurt her as she'd hurt him so many times. That night…that night had been a complete role reversal. One of many it seemed now, as she sat there, watching him quietly, with not a hint of her remembered impatience with him.

There was so much he needed to say and so much he couldn't. "How's your lip?" he asked, smirking.

Her own smirk lit her face, "Better than your eye, I see you've still got a bruise." She sounded way too satisfied with herself.

"You know how delicate I am," he sniffed, taking a gulp of lukewarm coffee.

She snorted and leaned back, fingers playing with a packet of fake sugar. "You hit like a girl."

_Sirens wailed in the distance and they broke apart, panting and glaring, and he finally became aware of the crowd they'd attracted. Of the news vans and hoverdrones. Of the fact that they'd lost control._

_That _he'd_ lost control. _

"_Come inside," she said, wiping blood away from her mouth._

"_Yeah," he agreed, falling into step with her, "Okay."_

They waited until the server brought more coffee; a refill for him, a cup for her, and then they stared, sipping quietly. He felt out of his element. He'd spent so long knowing what people wanted to hear, knowing how to give people what they wanted, that he'd forgot how to ask for himself.

"I can't forgive you."

She looked at him solemnly. "You will."

He wanted to hate her, but his fury was gone, spent in a whirlwind of fighting and fucking, and all he had left was what remained at his core. "How can you be so sure?"

Her hand darted forward to touch his where it was busy crumpling a napkin. The shadows of the letters skimmed over her skin as her hand moved, and he looked up when the heat of her fingers seeped into his. "Because you're mine."

_The silence was deafening in the elevator, and equally as loud in the hallway. It wasn't until the door was shut and locked that he felt like he could breathe again._

_He turned and she stayed there, hand resting on the knob, watching him. "Is-"_

"_He's at Gem's for the night."_

"_Oh."_

"_Yeah."_

_He stared for a moment at the tiled floor of the entryway and when he looked back up she was closer. "You fucked up."_

_She nodded, "Yes." She moved again, closer and closer until she was right in front of him. His eyes fluttered shut as her arms twined around his neck, his hands came to rest on her hips almost involuntarily as her fingers caressed her claim over his barcode. "It's still there," she murmured, breath metallic sweet, and he shuddered._

"_I could've gotten rid of it." He thought of Lin for a second, of what his life could have been, but her lips brushed his and he moaned, opening his eyes to meet hers. Her brown eyes were wide, pupils dilating as she swayed into him even more._

"_But you didn't," she said._

"_I didn't."_

"We're not twenty-two anymore," he told her, twisting his hand so that it was palm up, watching as her fingers shifted with his movement and she traced his lifeline.

"We were stupid at twenty-two."

His mouth twisted at that, "We're not so smart now." Her hand gripped his, palm to palm, and he looked up, tense. "Ten years. Ten years, you let that man raise _my_ son."

"Our son."

_He buried himself deep inside her, feeling that edge of desperation that came whenever they were together. That not-knowing. It made him off-balance, lost, so caught up in wanting what wasn't there…_

_She twisted in his lap, her own hands tangled in her hair, drawing it to the side, exposing smooth skin marked only by stark black lines. He made a sound, half-animal, and she leaned further in, body bucking against his, her teeth nipping at her own imprint. "Claim me."_

_Everything he ever wanted was suddenly there, just waiting for him._

"_I'm yours," she whispered to him, "All yours, only yours, forever. Just claim me." _

_All he had to do was take it._

"We're going to be late," she informed him, sliding toward the edge of the booth.

He hesitated, his hand caught in hers, "Should I really go?"

Her eyes softened and she tugged, "He wants you there."

Ben was amazing. Brilliant and glowing and phenomenal, and he felt like he was about to burst every time he even looked at his son, let alone talked to him. And even with everything, even with years of walking that thin line between loving and hating, it was worth it to be sitting here in this diner across from her, about to see his son for the hundredth time in six days.

Even with everything, he wouldn't change anything.

_He watched as she examined the mark in the mirror, turning this way and that for the best view. He could see himself in the reflection, gaze glittering as he studied her. He could see the contentment on both their faces._

_Mated. Claimed. Complete._

"_This isn't going to be easy," he felt the need to say._

_She gaze him one of her looks, one of the ones that said he was too stupid to be breathing but she'd put up with him anyway. He hadn't gotten one of those in a long time; it was ridiculous that it made the tightness in his chest loosen. "When have we ever done something the easy way?"_

"_I mean it," he pressed, "This isn't a fairytale. There's not going to be a happily ever after."_

_The sigh cut through his harsh words, and she ambled back over to the bed, climbing in beside him and curling her body around his. "I know. I know we're going to have problems. I know we're going to fight. I know how much you're giving up. I know how much you're hurting. But I also know how much I love you. I know how much you love me. I know what we have is worth it. We are worth it. Our family is worth it. All of it." _

"_Max…"_

"_Alec. I know there aren't any happy endings."_

He shouldn't be this nervous. They were sitting on fold-out chairs in an elementary school gymnasium for a fourth-grade graduation. The whole thing was ridiculous and corny, and he shouldn't be shaking like a leaf.

But Cindy was whistling in triumph, and Joshua was trying to hold the camcorder steady while letting out his own cheer, and Max was virtually glowing as she stood and clapped, and that was _his_ son –

"Benjamin McDowell," the principal had said; loud and clear, for everyone to hear, and everyone had. Everyone knew that the little boy in the cardboard graduation cap, with the quirking smile and golden curls, was his. Theirs.

Max's hand found his again, and she pulled him forward, toward the mass of tiny students, to find his son one more time so that they could go home.

"_There are just endings. And then new beginnings." _

**To be concluded…**

_Note2_: Epilogue will consist of the rest of the alphabet (U-Z), in 100-word drabbles and will be fluffy. Probably. They'll also feature more Ben. Probably. And the should be up within the week. Definitely.

Feedback, as always, is much appreciated.


	13. Epilogue: Complete

And now for a more fluffy-future…

**Epilogue: Complete**

* * *

_Umbrella_

She didn't move at the scrape of boot heel on metal, but when his legs wrapped around to bracket hers she relaxed. "You're cold," he murmured, in an echo of their past, "And your hair is wet."

"It's raining," she said, tilting her face to tuck her nose into the space between his shoulder and chin.

"In Seattle? Huh, good thing I brought an umbrella." She looked up at his profile against the red fabric as he watched the skyline, and then she settled again, eyes as captivated as his on the city lights from their High Place.

"Good thing."

* * *

_Vacation_

"Are you coming back?"

"No. It's called a permanent vacation for a reason, Lin."

"What are you going to do with yourself?" she demanded.

He'd thought about it. A lot. Who he'd be away from politics. Who he'd be away from everything he'd made himself aspire to. And all he'd come up with was, "Whatever I want."

"Do you even know what you want anymore, Alec?"

"I want to be a good father. I want to make things work with Max." The front door opened to reveal his family, smiling brightly. "I want everything they told me I couldn't have."

* * *

_Wager_

"Punishment!" Eve yelled, banging open the front door and dragging Ben by the ear. Max sprang away from Alec, straightening her clothes.

"What did you do now, Benjamin?" Max asked, sighing. Her son had definitely gotten into more mischief now that he had his father in his corner.

"He kissed me," Eve hissed.

"Dalton dared me! Double dared, my pride was at stake!"

"Just your pride?" Max prompted.

He grinned, "And possibly my new camera…"

"Ben," she reproved.

"Dad?"

"An older woman, huh? That's my boy." Alec grinned.

Max and Eve shared a _look_ as their boys exchanged indiscreet high-fives.

* * *

_Xerox_

They left the courthouse hand in hand, fingers locked, Ben following at a leisurely pace as he clicked through his digital stills. She looked over, and he was watching her, smiling softly, and she knew there would never be another moment like this. So quiet and private and theirs.

It was raining out and she was wearing jeans, but it had been the perfect day for a wedding.

Not that they really _needed_ one; their claims were absolute, complete, unshakeable, and unbreakable.

But sometimes, _sometimes_, a girl liked to have thing in black and white and then filed in triplicate.

* * *

_Yawn_

When they placed the little pink bundle in his arms he felt like dying. Like this was all some elaborate hoax to make it seem like all his dreams were coming true and in a minute he'd be ripped away, back to a bed half-cold, listening to her bumbling attempts around the kitchen as he tried desperately to remind himself it wasn't real. That happiness was fleeting and he was living on borrowed time.

Then she yawned. Squinted up at him with his eyes. Max's hair. Tiny fingers and tiny toes. Real. Perfect. _His_… and his heart started beating again.

* * *

_Zipper_

"I can do it," she insisted, little hands fussing with the front of her powder pink jacket.

"Okay," he said mildly.

She looked up at him shyly five minutes later, eyes wet and lips pouting. "Daddy," Hope whispered, "Help, pwease."

He kept his smile small as he knelt down before her, wondering at how like and unlike Max she was. "How about I start it," he offered, his fingers already deftly hooking the ends of her zipper together. She took it from him, pulling the tab up smoothly and smiling at him in triumph.

"I did it!"

"That's my girl."

**The End**

It really is the end. Hard to believe, huh? Thank you, everyone, who read this fic no matter how long it took. I appreciate your dedication and all your input on this crazy, angst-riddled story. Love to you and all you do!

-Nic


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